


Fasten Your Lifejacket

by thegirlwhoknits



Series: We Learned the Sea [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles comes to terms with his attraction to Peter, but finds to his surprise that they still may not be on the same page.  Sequel to "Let Me Be Your Anchor".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fasten Your Lifejacket

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to "Let Me Be Your Anchor". This just sort of came out all in one go, so it's a bit shorter and less polished than the first one. Concrit welcome! I hope you enjoy it; we can all agree that the world needs more Steter, right?

The next few days at the resort passed quietly.  Stiles faked cheerfulness for his evening phone calls with the sheriff, happily chatting about events at the fictitious werewolf convention.  Some of these were gleaned from stories Peter told him over meals.  Stiles felt himself smiling more than he had in months, even sometimes letting out a startled bark of laughter.  One of the things he’d always appreciated about Peter was his quick wit; he was the only one in the Pack consistently capable of keeping up with Stiles’s train of thought.

He had a lot more to appreciate about Peter now.

Getting restless after the first day of being stuck in the hotel room, Stiles dragged Peter out for a hike on the resort’s trails.  The weather was beautiful, and although he had to stop frequently to rest, the exercise seemed to settle something in him.  From then on, they spent most of their days outdoors, taking a packed lunch with them and eating it by a small lake they’d found halfway along their route.  It was almost…romantic, and Stiles found himself increasingly confused that Peter showed no sign of taking advantage of the situation.

Despite his comment on their first day about Stiles not being his “type,” he knew Peter had been attracted to him for a while.  Their research sessions were punctuated by frequent innuendo, and prior to this the older werewolf had taken every opportunity to touch him.  Stiles liked to tease him about being a “pedowolf,” but he actually sort of appreciated the attention. It was nice to know someone as attractive and intelligent—although still a little creepy—as Peter could be interested in him.

But although he still touched Stiles, Peter had backed way off on the creepy scale since their arrival, and he’d refused to engage in the teen’s suggestive banter.  If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d call the werewolf’s demeanor “paternal”—but he did know better, having caught the man’s appreciative gaze as he came out of the shower or changed for bed.

So what was wrong? Had Stiles’s weakness finally convinced Peter that he wasn’t worth pursuing? Or had he just taken his repeated deflections to heart? Stiles wasn’t even really sure why he was upset about this turn of events.  He should be relieved that Peter’s unwelcome advances had stopped, right?

Unless maybe they weren’t so unwelcome after all.  He watched Peter closely at dinner that night, back at the hotel, and for once examined his own responses just as closely.  He knew, objectively, that Peter was hot, and the man’s tight jeans and deep v-neck shirts did nothing to hide that.  Stiles had also long known that his sexuality was fluid; hot was hot, in his body’s opinion, whether it was male or female, werewolf or human.  He had to admit, though, that Peter was attractive for more than just his body.  The man’s devious intelligence was fascinating, as was his devotion to family and friends.  Sure, he wasn’t above using people to his own ends, but he was also fiercely protective of those he cared about.

And apparently, against all reason in Stiles’s opinion, he cared about Stiles.

Now, paying attention for the first time to the surge of warmth in his chest when Peter smiled at him or laughed at his jokes, he had to admit to himself that he apparently cared about Peter, as well.

 

Later that evening, when Peter curled up on the sofa with his book, instead of pulling out his laptop and surfing the internet as he normally did, Stiles curled up next to him.  When he leaned against the older man’s side, Peter’s arm came up automatically and curled around him.  The feeling of warmth and safety that came with it almost made Stiles dizzy.  Abruptly, he turned to face the werewolf.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked challengingly.

Peter put his book down with a sigh.  “I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, valuable to the Pack, everyone needs an anchor, I got all that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I mean, why are _you_ doing _this_?” He pointed at Peter’s arm, which had merely readjusted its grip when he turned.

Peter yanked his arm back as if it had been burned.  “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can—”

“No, no, no.” Stiles growled in frustration. “That’s not what I meant. I just…”  Faster than Peter could react, he repositioned himself so he was straddling the older man’s lap, then leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to his lips.

Peter reacted immediately, gripping Stiles’s neck and kissing him back fiercely.  He let out a moan as Peter’s tongue slid past his lips, sending a tidal wave of arousal flooding through him.  Peter’s other hand tightened on the small of his back, pulling him forward until he could feel the outline of the other man’s erection against his thigh. Stile let out another groan and bucked his hips forward, lost in the sensation of Peter exploring his mouth.

Suddenly Peter pulled back, peeling Stiles off his lap and standing hurriedly. His eyes were beta-blue and dilated, his breath coming in short pants. He ran his hands through his hair, a wild look on his face. “Stiles, I can’t… You don’t have to do this, you don’t owe me anything.”

Stiles stared at him in disbelief from where he lay sprawled on the sofa. “I know!” He tried not to shout at Peter, with minimal success. “God, is that what you think of me? That I’d just whore myself out because I think I _owe_ you?”

Peter shook his head. “No, of course not, I just… We should talk about this, first.”

Sitting up and sighing heavily, Stiles rubbed at his eyes with his palms.  “Fine. Let’s talk.”

The older man sat back down gingerly, positioning himself at the other end of the sofa.  Stiles turned to face him, tucking his legs underneath him and crossing his arms.  He was aware that he probably looked like a petulant child, but the rejection stung.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what brought this on,” Peter opened.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “I’m attracted to you, you’re attracted to me, we’re stuck in a hotel room with only one bed? Also, it may have escaped your notice, but I’m a horny teenager.”

Peter’s eyes briefly flashed blue when Stiles said “I’m attracted to you,” and he clenched his hands as if trying to keep himself under control.  “We’ve been in…compromising positions before. Why now?”

Punching out a sigh, Stiles gave the question some thought before speaking.  “I guess this is the first time I’ve ever really considered how _I_ felt about it. Before, we were always doing something for the Pack—someone’s life was in danger, some new threat to the town needed to be investigated—I just figured you were only interested because I was _there_ , you know?  And now…I guess it’s nice to feel like somebody cares.”

A brief flicker of disappointment seemed to chase its way across Peter’s face.  He was silent for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching as if he was warring with himself.  Finally he straightened and looked the younger man in the eye.  “I do want you, Stiles—you have _no idea_ how much—but I don’t think now is the best time to take this step. When–if—we sleep together, I want us to be on the same page; doing it for the same reasons.”

Stiles snorted. “What, do you think I’m going to get all attached if we…” He trailed off as Peter looked away. “Oh.”

The werewolf stood, refusing to look at him, and picked his jacket up off the back of a chair. “I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be back later; don’t wait up.” He left the room, closing the door behind him softly.

 

Stiles stayed on the sofa for a long time after Peter left, stunned.  _Holy shit,_ he thought. _Holy shit, Peter Hale loves me. Peter Hale is_ in love _with me._   The merest possibility of that hadn’t begun to cross his mind. I mean, this was _Peter._   He could believe that the man cared about him because he was Pack, possibly even because they were friends, but love? Why the hell would someone like Peter Hale love _him?_

Peter was right, though—this was not the time. Hell, Stiles had just figured out he was attracted to Peter; he had no idea what his _feelings_ were. And if Peter really was in love with him ( _Holy shit,_ his brain repeated for good measure), then it definitely wasn’t fair to start something he couldn’t finish.

He was starting to wish he could have a drink, too.


End file.
